Point of view: Tiffany’s.

I look at the rain falling hard outside… I can see my face in the glass; my reflection, as I am staring at the sad landscape, my old face… Time had passed so fast at first, then too slow after… I wish I could die right now, like I wish every day… I think about that part of my life… I say nothing… I just look at nowhere, images from my own past passing through my soul, devouring me, my face fading more and more, two tears falling down like the drops of rain outside… The sound of the rain is invading my heart, my heavy heart, full of remorse…

I grew up in America even if my parents were Koreans, so I couldn’t talk the Korean language well, just a few words my mom taught me before she died... My dad, gnawing away by pain, decided to move to Korea, then I would be affected in a new school… I was not afraid at all, but that was before really entering in it…

I remember when we packed our things… I remember the music playing in the cab… I remember that crowd and that noise at the airport… I remember all… In some hours, we were arrived to Korea… At first, I was amazed by all the beautiful trees and the people having the same face like us… I was good… After some days, we were installed at our new house… I had a big pink room… I was so glad… But my father sent me to school the next day…

I remember that fear to pass the main door… I heard all people speaking a language I didn’t understand yet… I was scared and alone… I had the impression all the people around me were staring at me… I found my class, and sat alone at my desk… The teacher started the class, then he asked me something about my life and I froze, unable to speak… All I did was leaning my head forward shyly; all I heard was people laughing hard at me… I was about to be the new bullied in that school…

The day after, I came back to school… Some girls had followed me when I went to the bathroom… They cut some strands of my hair, laughing at me, probably insulting me… Me, I was dispassionate… My young face was without any expression, no pain when those girls beat me, nor tears when they cut my hair… They left… I looked at my face in the mirror; my beautiful long hair was gone… The girls had thrown my things from my bag away… I picked them up from the ground and when I stood up, someone was there, watching me attentively… It was a very beautiful girl… I looked at her then started to walk toward the exit when she stopped me by standing to block my way…

She translated her sentence in English with a quite bad accent, making me laughing… She looked vexed by my attitude, so I apologized, bowing… She left without saying a word… I left the room too… I came back to my class, the pupils indiscreetly mocking me, and when I was about to sit, I saw her again, sitting in the middle of some girls who were mocking me, but not her, she stared at me silently without opening … At my surprise she made her friends stopping to laugh and talk about me… I immediately knew how popular sh